


Missing Christmas

by katmarajade



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Best Friends, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Gen, Holidays, Homesickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On board the Enterprise, Christine reminisces about Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Christmas

It's not like there are holidays in space. Christine knows that. They try to stay on a Terran calendar, but it's not really the same, no matter how much everyone tries to pretend. Time is different in space. Days are different. And when you're on a starship, hurtling through space, meeting new races of beings, exploring the unknown, and trying to stay one step ahead of Klingons, raiding parties, and local pirates, well, holidays are understandably not a top priority.

Christine misses Christmas. She used to spend the day with her whole family, cozy by the fire, drinking egg nog, eating her mother's Christmas cookies (which are not even that good, but which Christine heartily prefers to all other superior forms of cookies because they are her _mom's_ and they're tradition), and exchanging gifts—nothing big or fancy, as they'd never had much money. She misses her family. She misses their Christmas tree—the fake one that they stuck pine-scented ornaments on so that it would smell real—bedazzled with brightly colored lights and chipped ornaments with an angel on top, an angel with a crooked halo and a tattered wing. She misses Christmas.

But there is no time for Christmas on the Enterprise. Christine spends most of her day stuck in sickbay treating an epidemic of some yet-unnamed alien strand of chicken pox that is spreading like wildfire through the crew.

McCoy had immediately demanded half the crew be quarantined and had whipped up a batch of vaccines, the first of which are administered to the central medical staff (including Christine) and the Alpha bridge crew. She is relieved to know that at least Hikaru won't take ill, confident as she is in McCoy's amazing ability to develop these sorts of treatments under pressure.

She and Hikaru had been planning on spending Christmas together after their shifts. Nothing fancy, just a holiday drink with friends, possibly with Pavel or Gaila or Scotty joining if they were free. She had learned her lesson last year though and there would definitely _not_ be any replicated egg nog this time around. But now Alpha bridge crew is on 24-hour deck duty and she is stuck in sickbay

Handling a major, life-threatening epidemic is one thing—that would be an understandable reason for having to work through Christmas, (which Dr. McCoy, bless his gruff and growly heart, had assigned her off). She isn't bravely battling a fatal disease though; no, she's dousing ornery officers in calamine lotion and slapping their hands when they try to scratch.

It is definitely not a good Christmas, she thinks as she makes her way back to her quarters, finally released from babysitting itchy, whining crew members. She glares at her entry code panel as tears rise unbidden to her eyes.

As she walks into her room, she sees a sparkling kaleidoscope of color through her tear-filled eyes. Blinking back the wetness, she sees the little tree sitting on her desk, covered in tiny lights. Rushing over to examine it, she realizes that it's one of the trees from Hikaru's greenhouse and that the lights are tiny light bulbs used in the indicator panels onboard, strung onto a cord. There's a tiny doll tied to the top of the tree that she recognizes from their last shore leave—one of those ubiquitous trinkets on that planet, thumb-sized poppets painted by locals and sold in every little shop.

There is a note next to the tree.

 _Christine—Merry Christmas to the best friend a guy could ask for. Sorry that Pavel and I have to bail on you tonight. Don't tell anyone, but 24-hour deck duty in a non-occupied zone is beyond boring. Hope the itchy crazies didn't get you down too much. Replicate yourself some wine (remember, no egg nog!) and enjoy your very own Christmas tree (I nicked the doll trinket from Pavel and Scotty rigged the lights for me). Merry Christmas!_  
Love, Hikaru

Staring dopily at her perfect little Christmas tree, Christine thinks that maybe this will be a Merry Christmas after all.  


Oh my gosh, this is it! All of my holiday drabbles have been posted-- I shall now stop spamming your flists! Thank you all, darlings-- you've been so lovely. I hope that you've enjoyed at least a few of these ficlets and happy, happy Christmastime to every one of you! *muah!*


End file.
